Musings of a Distraught Mind
When I was a younger man, I lived in fear of myself and constantly challenged myself with fear. Now, as I look back, I smile. How did I get to be this age? I should have been dead many times a long time ago, and then some.
Must be wisdom, it’s the only hope I have left. It began a long time ago, at the very beginning. And in the beginning, I was very young. So, you can imagine that I never really became aware of myself until it was almost too late.
So I made a list, a wisdom list. It’s not finished yet. You could say it’s still in the development stage. Or, you should say that it’s not quite ready to really make a true assessment of its direction. You would’a said something about the real meaning . . . if you thought of that before you said, “I haven’t started it.” Dumb.
Let’s stop and look at human dynamics for a moment.
Dad would have yelled, “What were you thinking?’ “Well I thou gh . . .” “God dammit, you’re to dumb to think!”
Mom would have said, “Oh Denny, I’m so disappointed in you.” Followed by a muttered translation in Polish, just in case Great Grandma ‘Bussha’ is tuned in for today’s show. She shed a tear, blotted it with a tissue that came from a hidden treasure of used, slightly used or the holy grail, unused. Unused were reserved for the really dramatic moments when the extra absorbency needed, well, it was a special revelation.
I failed, again. If only I could have been adopted. Wait, she already used that one on me, sort of. She told me I was the wrong baby, separated from her real baby after sunset, in December, on a night as cold as cold can be in Minnesota. A place recently released from the grips of the mini ice age that ended with the Industrial Revolution. A land where you just leave the unwanteds out for the night. Oh, my baby, that’s cold.
And now, I mean then: “I was born in the first half of the last century of the second Millennium. I’ve spend the rest of my life getting old.
These days my short term memory and my long term memory have congealed into no memory. Or at least it’s like looking through Jello. Kind of gets shaky when my head moves. Sometimes I wonder what would happen if I dropped the Jello?